Rekindled
by Insanity-Red
Summary: When phoenix tears aren't enough down in the Chamber of Secrets, Fawkes is forced to take drastic measures. This results in a Fem!Harry with new powers and no control. In a new place, separated from all she knew, how will Harry cope - with her situation, and her new abilities? And what will happen back at home while she's away? At least the local fauna seems friendly.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So yeah…. I'm sure some of you have been wondering why I haven't been posting for my stories, right? Well, this is definitely a big part of the reason. (That, and my brother is now home from college.) This story kinda latched onto my brain and wouldn't let go until I wrote out a bunch of notes for it - and since I have so many things written about it already, why not just write the entire story? Hope you guys enjoy.

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Rekindled - Prologue - A Treatise on Phoenixes

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Phoenixes are known as one of the most beautiful creatures in existence. They are about the size of a swan, with brilliant scarlet and gold plumage. They have ink-black eyes, as well as a golden beak and talons. In addition to their physical beauty, they are known to be creatures of pure Light magic, adding a sort of radiance to their charm.

Unfortunately, they are also among the rarest creatures in existence, with only three known domestications in the past millennia - and only a handful more sightings. In addition to the assumedly small number of their population, phoenixes are also known to be highly selective of who or what they associate with.

The reason phoenix tail-feather wand cores are so rare, is that the magnificent birds rarely decide to allow any witch or wizard the honor of a connection to their own magic - and indeed, it is rare in the first place to be compatible with the magic of a phoenix, even so small a portion as a mere feather. Witches or wizards with phoenix-feather wands are often said to be destined for great things.

Even more uncommon is a phoenix deciding to form a familiar's bond with a witch or wizard. Their already high criteria for simple association must be even demanding for one to share in their magic. Out of the three domestications in the past millennia, only one is known to be a familiar.

Despite their rarity and private conduct, it is a little known fact that humans do_ not_ actually know everything there is to learn about phoenixes. Of course, since they are, in fact, birds, and thus do not possess the necessary vocal chords for human speech, this could be because all knowledge of phoenixes has been collected purely through observation.

In this case, it can be assumed that the unknown talents of phoenixes are either: not comprehensible to humans; not able to be observed simply through the feeble sight humans are equipped with; or so exceedingly rare that they have never been performed in front of a human witness.

Then again, since the already known abilities of phoenixes are so phenomenal, it could just be that no one thought they could be even greater than they seem.

After all, they can heal the most grievous wounds with just a couple of tears, carry burdens at least seven times their own weight, fly easily at heights that would otherwise kill a bird from freezing or suffocation, teleport through any magical ward in existence, bring courage to their allies and despair to their enemies by simply singing a few notes, and last but certainly not least - they are immortal, forever slipping through Death's fingers, to be reborn in a burst of fire and ash.

And with all those gifts, who would think to look for more? Then again, since no one thought to look, that usually means there is something there.

In this case, there are a few abilities no human knows about. Firstly, the teleportation of a phoenix not only traverses distance, but can cross between inter-dimensional barriers. In fact, the reason phoenixes are thought to have such a small population is because most of them reside in their home world - only a few having traveled to select dimensions.

Secondly - not exactly unknown, but often overlooked despite its obviousness - phoenixes have the ability to age themselves rapidly. They can go from their recently-reborn baby form, to a fully mature adult in the span of days.

And Thirdly, the most secret art of phoenix magic: under certain conditions, a phoenix may give up their own life, permanently, and transfer all their magic and vitality to a recipient.

Of course, a phoenix would only ever resort to this final option under the most dire of circumstances - namely, when one with a connection to their magic, and thus under their protection is near death, and tears won't do anything beyond expressing sorrow. Since phoenixes are so selective of their company, and who they choose to bond with, and phoenix tears have been know to regenerate lost organs, you can understand why no one has ever known of this particular talent. The conditions of this gift are so specific that there has never even been a possibility of it happening.

Then again, Harriet 'Harry' Bryony Potter was known for impossibilities.

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~0~0~0~ Rekindling - Chapter One - Through Fire and Flames ~0~0~0~

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Cold. That was all Harry Potter could feel at the moment as she collapsed on the hard stone floor of the Chamber of Secrets. Of course, since basilisk venom was starting to spread throughout her entire body, she supposed she should be thankful that all she was getting was a case of the chills as opposed to pain.

Oh wait, never mind. There was the pain - burning like ice, eating away at her body like acid dripping through her veins. Was she going to die? After an entire decade living under the oppression of the Dursley family, was she only to experience two years in the Wizarding World before her life ended? There was so much more she wanted to see, so much more she wanted to do. She wasn't even out of school yet - heck, she hadn't even finished puberty! She hadn't even tasted the freedom she had hoped for upon entering this new world - she had constantly been boxed in by the school, her House, even other peoples' perceptions of her.

It was always 'The-Girl-Who-Lived' with the wizards, or the 'Potter Girl' to those who kept seeing her parents instead of her - or even the 'Freak' with the Dursleys. She'd never been able to be 'just Harry' like she'd always wanted.

Harry looked around blearily, already horrible vision worsened by the affect of the poison, hoping to find _something_ that might forestall her death. She could see a bright splotch of brilliant scarlet moving toward her.

'Ginny's hair?' she thought for a moment, somewhat relieved that even if she did die down there, at least she had managed to save her friend's little sister.

But no, focusing her eyes, she could see that the littlest Weasley was still lying on the chilled and slimy stone floor of the chamber. Thankfully, her skin was less deathly pale, and more the pale of any British citizen - and her breathing was deep and peaceful, rather than the shallow gasps she had been making when the spirit of Tom Riddle was draining her life-force. She was still unconscious, but mercifully not in immediate danger anymore.

Instead, the splotch of red turned out to be Fawkes, the phoenix familiar of the Headmaster, scarlet feathers glowing faintly in the darkness of the chamber. Fawkes hopped the last couple of feet toward her, and seemed to examine her with his deep black eyes. The fabulous bird then tilted his head, leaning over her arm, and thick, pearly tears dripped from his eyes, onto the stab wound on her upper arm.

A small whisper of hope rose within her. Phoenix tears had healing powers, didn't they? She remembered Dumbledore saying as much during her previous visit to the Headmaster's office. Maybe she wouldn't die down there.

But the black veins that had begun to spread from her wound weren't disappearing, and she only kept feeling worse.

Resignation mixed with resentment welled up in her chest, and her eyes slammed shut. Of course she wouldn't be saved. After all, everyone expected her to be the one doing the saving. Still, she swallowed down the bitterness of her feelings. At least she would be able to meet her parents - even if she did have to leave behind the life that had just begun to get better.

Her eyes flew open again as something warm bumped against her chest. Looking downward, she saw Fawkes resting his forehead against her breastbone. The phoenix looked up at her with solemn eyes. The sorrow she saw in his avian eyes almost took her by surprise, but then, she had always had an inkling that he was much more intelligent than any simple bird.

"It's… al…right," Harry managed to force her vocal chords and parched mouth to cooperate. After all, it wasn't Fawkes' fault that she was dying, and he had tried to help. "You… tried."

Fawkes gave her a long, intense stare. As her vision started to fade, she almost thought he had caught on fire, a golden glow overtaking the scarlet of his feathers. His small head once again came to a rest on her breastbone, and suddenly, everything felt different.

It felt like she had been dipped into the surface of the sun. The burning overpowered the intense cold of the venom, and then went on to scour through her entire body. Her back bowed at the pain, eyes and mouth opening abruptly, and it felt like there was molten gold pouring through every orifice in her body - even her eyes - and all she could see was the color gold. Her forehead felt as though a red-hot poker was being held against it. She would have screamed if the gold hadn't been blazing through her throat as well.

As abruptly as the sensation had started, it was then gone. Despite its brevity, it had felt like hours because of the pain.

Harsh panting filled her ears, and after a moment, she realized she was the one producing the sounds. Opening her eyes, she found that everything was blurrier than before, though she wasn't in pain anymore. In fact, she felt good. Much better than she ever had before with the frequent fatigue that came with her malnourished body. She felt almost energized, with a comfortable warmth spread through her body.

What had happened? She had just been on the verge of dying, and no.. she was better than before? That seemed highly unlikely, even to her - the most unlikely person on the face of the planet.

She pulled herself up into a sitting position, automatically reaching up to remove her glasses for a cleaning. Instead of receiving a wipe down, the bulky frames slipped as shock loosened her fingers, and the lenses cracked upon contact with the floor. She could see - better than she could ever remember, even when her glasses had been the correct prescription. Nothing was blurry, and she could pick out the smallest details, from the spider web cracks on the stone floor, to the tiny, textured bumps on the leather cover of Tom Riddle's Diary.

Now she was really anxious to know what had happened. How exactly did one go from near-death, to better than ever before?

Looking around with her new and improved vision, she felt a wave of dread when she saw that Fawkes had disappeared. Where had the bird gone? To get help? She had a sinking feeling that wasn't the case. When she looked down, the feeling spread as she saw ash coating part of the front of her robes, and covering part of the floor where the bird had previously been sitting.

There was no small, wrinkly chick sitting amidst the ash, newly reborn.

What had happened to the phoenix?

Harry shook off her alarm. Perhaps Fawkes had just done something to heal her, and then gone back to his perch in the Headmaster's office. In any case, she needed to get herself and Ginny out of the dank chamber, and into the Hospital Wing. Who knew what damage being possessed by the Diary had done to the youngest Weasley.

Looking around, she spotted the shining Sword of Gryffindor, coated in dark green basilisk's blood, and lying on the ground from where her venom-numbed fingers had lost their grip on it. She pushed herself to her feet, still slightly weary from the fight for her life, despite the unknown energy boost she had presumably been given by Fawkes. After a couple of steps, her feet adjusted to walking again, and she quickly scooped up the Sword. She hastily wiped the blood from it with excess fabric from her robes - after all, she didn't want to be responsible for damaging some priceless historical artifact.

Once done with her sword-cleaning, she twisted her head and found the Sorting Hat lying in a crumpled heap of fabric where she had dropped it after pulling out the Sword. She felt a small twinge of guilt - after all, she wouldn't have wanted to be treated like that, and she was pretty sure the Hat was sentient.

She quickly picked that up as well, before setting it on her head - she would need the extra hand if she wanted to carry Ginny as well as her wand and the Diary back toward the cave-in where Ron was waiting.

"_Quite a fight you've had there, little lion."_ a familiar voice announced in her head. The Hat seemed quite impressed with her recent actions, and thankfully not put-out at being dropped. _"It's not every day one witnesses a small girl defeat a thousand-year-old basilisk. Or any basilisk at all, for that matter."_

"_I'm just glad that it's over."_ Harry thought back plainly, taking no offense to being called small - after all, it was true. She moved to pick up the Diary and placed it in securely her robes' pocket. The small journal seemed more repulsive than ever with the knowledge of what it had been doing to an innocent little girl for the majority of a year - but still, someone might be able to help Ginny better by examining the artifact that had harmed her.

A chuckle resounded through her head. _"For someone like you - destined for greatness - it will _never _be over."_ the Hat stated ominously. _"And I should know, having seen the minds of every student to pass through the halls of this school, as well as every Headmaster."_

Harry paused mid-reach for her wand, which had been dropped by the shade of Riddle when he disappeared. A shudder racked her spine, and she distantly hoped that this was one instance in which the Sorting Hat was mistaken. She didn't particularly want to be destined for greatness. All 'greatness' she had experienced thus far always seemed to come with danger and invited the fickle opinions of everyone around her.

As her fingers closed around the familiar handle of her holly wand, she felt an intense heat flare up within her arm. Much to her horror, the wand burst into flames, burning away until only the phoenix feather core remained. She instinctively grasped at the feather - the last part of her beloved companion in learning magic - before it could fall, Quidditch honed reflexes making it an easy thing. As soon as the red and gold plume touched her hand, it transformed into some kind of liquid-gold energy, and disappeared into her hand.

Her hand jerked back at the feeling of something searing into her palm, before settling inside her skin. Her left hand tightened her grip around the Sword in reaction to the pain. Again, the burning sensation was sudden, leaving as swiftly as it started. Harry turned her hand, wanting to examine it for injury. She was stunned when she saw no wound - it had felt as though she should at least have a burn. Instead, there in the middle of her palm was a small, stylized feather, just like the one that had disappeared. It looked almost like a tattoo, inked in vivid gold and scarlet.

Her first thought was, 'Aunt Petunia would sooner chop my hand off before letting me in the house with a _tattoo_.'

Her second thought - and what followed - went something like this, 'My _wand_. It's gone. You can't do magic without a wand, can you? How am I going to stay in Hogwarts without a wand?'

She nearly hyperventilated at the thought of being sent permanently back to Privet Drive - where hand-chopping most likely awaited.

"_Oh honestly, child. Calm yourself,"_ came the slightly chiding voice of the Hat. _"Witches and wizards get replacement wands all the time - did you think there was never someone who broke their wand in a duel, or dropped one in a potion?"_

Harry deliberately slowed her breathing to a normal pace.

"_Besides, from what just happened, I'd say you won't need a new wand anyway,"_ the Hat continued almost smugly. _"Surely you noticed that the _magical_ part of your wand hasn't left you?"_ it prompted her, referring to the new mark on her palm. _"I'd wager you'll never need a wand to perform magic again."_

Harry simply stood there for a moment, completely still as her brain worked over this new information.

'Why can't I be normal for once?' she thought to herself in frustrated dejection, even as she adapted quickly to the situation. 'No one can do magic without a wand - it's _supposed_ to be impossible. This'll just make me even more of a freak. Even among the magical people, I'm an anomaly.'

A long sigh escaped her throat. 'Isn't there someplace where I'd just be able to simply be me for once?'

Unknown to Harry, her simple wish activated one of the powers Fawkes' magic had bestowed upon her - teleportation for a phoenix was simply a matter of wanting to go somewhere else. And Harry most definitely wanted to be somewhere else at the moment.

A sense of vertigo overtook Harry's mind, along with a vague sense of terror as she abruptly found herself engulfed in a torrent of fire. It surrounded her on all sides, licking against her face and limbs, and for a panicked moment, she didn't realize that it wasn't burning her. She felt herself tumbling - downward or sideways she didn't know - and all she could see was a blur of red, orange and yellow all mixing together and dancing in the usual pattern of a flame.

Finally, the chaos ceased, and she felt something solid beneath her feet once again. Her knees buckled as her legs firmly met the ground with a muffled thump.

She opened her eyes, only just realizing they had closed against the onslaught of blazing color, only for them to widen far beyond what she had intended.

The sight before her was nothing short of enchanting. She was currently standing in a valley, every inch of the ground covered in brilliant red-orange flowers, each with six perfectly formed petals, and glowing with some sort of inner radiance. Surrounding the valley were tall green mountains, so lofty that the tops were veiled by thick clouds. She could see shining ribbons of water gliding down the slopes in the form of sparkling waterfalls, splashing pleasantly into clear pools with pure white stones at the bottoms.

She stumbled over to one of the pools, finding her dry throat almost unbearable in the face of a supply of such clean, refreshing-looking water. As she leaned over the nearest pool, however, her intentions were halted by the sight of her reflection. Her face was pale, though her cheeks were slightly flushed from adrenaline, and completely covered in grime. Her hair was sweaty and plastered to her skull - the least riotous she had ever seen it. Her robes had various tears in them, and were filthy from the slide down the grubby entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. What held her attention was none of that.

The most abhorred part of her appearance, the unwanted-attention-grabbing scar cut onto her forehead - it was gone. There was a small trail of dried blood where it had previously been, but as she splashed a bit of water onto it, she could see that there was not even a trace of the once-famous scar. She felt almost weak-kneed with some unknown emotion between confusion and immense relief. Her fingers reached up of their own volition, and traced the spot lightly.

Her contemplation was interrupted as her keen ears - hidden beneath the too-large Sorting Hat - twitched backwards slightly at a soft fluttering noise behind her. She quickly spun around, still a bit skittish from the recent fight with a gigantic snake-monster, her hand clenched tightly around the handle of the Sword.

She was met with nearly a dozen gleaming black eyes, staring straight at her.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm glad you guys seem to like this story - especially since it is very fun for me to write. Thanks for the reviews. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

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Rekindling - Chapter Two - Tinder and Kindling

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The moment Harry realized the magnitude of the eyes upon her, she immediately wished for her Invisibility Cloak. Unfortunately, it was locked away in her trunk at Hogwarts, and who knew how far away that was from… wherever she was. So, not having the option to turn invisible, she gathered her Gryffindor courage around like a makeshift cloak instead, and position the Sword between her and the eyes.

Upon getting a closer look at the starers, her grip tightened on the Sword until her knuckles whitened and nearly jumped in surprise when she felt the mysterious feather tattoo on her palm warm slightly.

"_My my,"_ murmured that Hat, its tone caught somewhere between interest and astonishment. _"If I had ever had doubts about the greatness you a destined for, even after slaying a Basilisk, this would erase them. Only someone very special would ever be able to stumble across an entire flock of phoenixes."_

Before Harry could tell the Hat where exactly she'd like to shove all her 'specialness' - or even just ask if they were experiencing some sort of shared hallucination, her plans were halted by movement from one of the flock.

One of the mythical birds - slightly small than the rest, she noticed - flapped its great wings, once, twice, easily gliding across the distance between them. It halted only a yard away from the tip of the Sword Harry was warily brandishing, and tilted its beautiful scarlet head to the side in a typical gesture of avian curiosity.

Despite her death grip on the Sword, Harry nearly dropped it upon hearing the phoenix chirp questioningly at her. For instead of simply hearing bird-song (albeit bird-song with magical properties - she was already feeling a little more steady), she had also gotten the distinct impression of a young, bubbly voice asking, **"What are you?"**

Before Harry could even begin to comprehend the fact that she had just heard a bird talk, another of the phoenixes (plural, as in a group of them!) flapped itself forward to stand beside the slightly smaller one.

"**Please, take no offense to this young one's lack of manners."** here the phoenix cuffed the smaller lightly on the head - strangely playful action, like a chiding older sibling.** "He is but three centuries old. I'm sure what he meant to say was that we have never seen one such as you, and are naturally curious."** the new phoenix chirped - except instead of a chirp, Harry had heard a voice she imagined belonging to a calm, middle-aged woman.

Harry manage to cobble the answer together inside her brain and force it pass her lips. "I'm a human," she told them, still holding the Sword in front of her as she tried to understand what exactly was happening.

When the group of birds in front of her simply stared in skepticism at her answer, she specified a bit more. "I'm a witch," Harry explained, wondering how they could so immediately tell the difference between a muggle and a magic-user - and didn't witches count as 'human' to them?

There was a commotion amongst all the phoenixes at her words. They began to chatter back and forth to each other in a chaotic mess of noise. Harry could distinguish small murmurs of what sounded like English mixed in with the bird-calls and chirps.

"**Preposterous!"** the somewhat pompous voice of an old, cranky man rang out. One of the largest birds in the flock pushed himself to the front of the crowd, and hopped toward her. He ignored the point of the Sword swung toward him, and fixed her with a piercing eye. **"I've felt witches and wizards before, girl, and you most certainly are not one of them!"**

Harry stared at him. "I've been a witch my entire life," she told him, lowering her sword a bit at the lack of hostility, "I've gone to a school for them for the past two years. I think someone would've noticed if I couldn't do magic."

"**I didn't say you weren't magical, girl!"** The older bird's beak snapped in impatient irritation. **"But you are definitely not a witch!"**

"**Yeah!"** the young boy's voice from earlier piped up again as the smallest bird hopped forward a bit. He craned his head backward to examine Harry's face in wonderment. **"You feel like one of us - even if you have funny feathers,"** he said matter-of-factly, referring to her hair.

The other phoenixes were abruptly silent at the declaration of their youngest. Their stares intensified threefold, until it felt as though they were trying to burn her with their gaze.

"**Could it be…?"** the calm voice of the female phoenix had a tinge of astonishment in it.

"**Girl! What world are you from?"** the old phoenix demanded suddenly.

"World…?" Harry asked in puzzlement.

"**Where did you come from?"** he asked, annoyed that she hadn't immediately understood the answer he wanted.

"Hogwarts," she answered in confusion. "Why? Can you send me back?"

The phoenixes, however, ignored her questions and the tumultuous muttering started up again.

"**That was where Fawkes had gone,"** one of the birds declared in a deep, solemn voice that cut over the whispers of his fellows'.

"**He had planned on starting a new life cycle soon, when he returned after his companion died,"** another voice declared, this one that of a young woman. **"It would have only been a couple of years from now, so why would he do this instead…?"**

"**You were dying, girl, weren't you?"** the old man's voice asked shrewdly. **"But how could a little girl receive a wound so severe that it couldn't be healed by phoenix tears?"** he asked incredulously. **"Fawkes has always been a softy, but even he wouldn't do something this drastic unless there was no other choice."**

Confused and irritated by the phoenixes all talking over her head, and getting the distinct impression that they knew what was going on, Harry was starting to get very annoyed, "I was bitten by a basilisk!"

In unison, all the birds let out hisses of distaste, some of them puffing up their feathers with anger.

"**Why was a young girl such as yourself in any proximity with one of those Death-gazers!"** the middle-aged woman's voice asked, a hint of maternal outrage in the incredulous question.

But Harry wouldn't answer any more questions without some answers of her own.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on!" she snapped. "Where am I, and what are you talking about? How could you possibly know that I had almost died? And what are you saying Fawkes did to me?"

"**Calm yourself, child,"** the deep, solemn voice soothed. **"Becoming agitated will do you no good."**

"**Hmph. From what I can tell, she'd have every right to get agitated. No one's told her anything, after all, and she only looks to be about twelve years old - as good as a baby,"** the old man's voice sniffed, before the phoenix it belonged to turned to face her once again. **"You, girl, are in the Mountains of the Sun, home to every phoenix in the universes."**

Before Harry could question what he meant by 'universes' - as in plural - he continued to talk.

"**As for what we were talking about, it ties into your other questions,"** he stated. **"Since most humans are ignorant of our abilities, I shall have to explain it to you."** here he coughed, clearing his throat in preparation for a lecture.** "I assume you at least know that phoenixes are immortal? Good. Now, as I'm sure you can imagine, immortality gets boring after a while. Once a phoenix hit's the age of 3000 years, they are considered an elder - the equivalent of about 120 in human years. At that point, many decide that they want to move on to the next great adventure. There are only two ways of doing so." **

Harry, at this point, couldn't help but interrupt. "You mean they choose to die?" she couldn't help but be a tiny bit incredulous - after all, the year before, she had been protecting a Stone that could grant immortality. Considering how valuable it had been, and what lengths those after it would go to, it was a bit surprising to her to hear that anyone - or anything - would voluntarily give it up.

"**Yes,"** the old man, crotchety though he may be, seemed to understand that she was only young, and thus might not be able to comprehend their motives completely. **"But as I was saying, there are two ways. One, the phoenix can choose to start a new life cycle. This allows them to move on, and creates a completely new phoenix in their place."**

He extended a wing outward, before curving it around the smallest one, who was shifting from foot to foot in a antsy fashion . **"Tarva here was a result of this. He's only three hundred years old."**

The old man's voice paused in its cadence, seemingly to give him time to gather his thoughts. The younger one took his chance to wiggle his way free, and hopped a few feet to the side. The old one took no notice as he suddenly became very somber, no trace of the tetchy personality he had shown before.

"**The second, on the other wing, is only rarely used, as it lessens our population every time. There have only been two cases of it happening in our history."** he announced gravely. **"A phoenix, instead of starting a new life, gives up their own life-force to save another - someone who is on the verge of death, and not able to be saved in any other way . It also requires a magical bond between the two, which makes the process even rarer, as we are very careful with those."**

Harry listened with wide eyes. Her right hand - the one with the new feather tattoo - clenched slightly. Her wand had… melted into the same golden color as whatever magic Fawkes had done. Was it possible that the feather inside had been one of his? Did that count as a magical bond? And Fawkes… he had died to save her? She wasn't sure how to feel about that. She didn't exactly want anyone to be dying for her - she had already lost her mother that way.

"**Don't you be feeling guilty now,"** the old man said sternly, reading the expression on her face. **"Fawkes made his decision, and it wasn't through any plan of yours! Besides, didn't you hear earlier? He was planning' on heading on soon anyway - that human of his is getting on in the years, and that was all he was holding out for."**

It seemed a bit odd to think of it that way for Harry, but she tried. It was weird to think of Dumbledore being _that_ old when he always seemed so energetic.

The old phoenix interrupted her thought as he continued. **"But anyway, in the only previous case of this happening, along with a new chance life, the recipient of the life-transfer was also fundamentally changed,"** he stated directly.** "To put it plainly - their magic completely integrated the new essence, and they partially became a phoenix, gaining all the abilities of one in the process."**

Harry nearly dropped the Sword in her shock as her mind went numb. Too many things were happening to her in too little time. Even with her rather well-developed ability to adapt to new situations, this was a bit much. After all, when she discovered the world of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it had simply been her discovering what she had been all along. Apparently, she was now changing species, just to escalate the weird happenings in her life.

"**I'll bet my beak that's how you got here, too,"** the old bird continued thoughtfully.** "With no real control over your new talents, it'd only be a simple matter of wishing to be somewhere else for you fire teleportation to manifest itself. You're quite lucky that you ended up here, instead of somewhere you'd get eaten as soon as you landed - but then, since you are technically part-phoenix now, it could just be that your magic instinctively recognized the Mountains of the Sun as 'home', and thus 'safe'," **he hypothesized. **"Still, we'll have to train you up a bit before you go back to your original world. Can't have you causing any accidental damage, can we?"**

But Harry didn't hear his thoughts on the matter, because with the combined impact of adrenaline-loss, magical metamorphosis, and the bombshell dropped on her head, she had passed out, dropping roughly to the ground on top of the brilliant orange-red flowers.

"**Oh honestly, Coriakin, couldn't you have put it a little more gently?"** the calm, middle-aged woman's voice chided softly. The female phoenix hopped up toward the tiny, prone form of the previously-human girl, and started to soothingly comb her beak through her hair.

"**Pish,"** the newly identified Coriakin scoffed. **"She looked so dead on her feet that she would have dropped if I had sang the whole thing to her. Don't tell me you've already decided to mother her, Alambil."**

"**Hey, does this mean I get someone new to play with?"** Tarva piped in eagerly, his wings fluttering faintly in excitement as he gazed curiously at Harry.

Before the youngest's query could be answered, the deep voice from before interjected. **"Whatever the case may be, the young one should be moved somewhere more comfortable, or she will be stiff upon waking."**

The others straightened slightly at his instruction - after all, though he wasn't the eldest, out of all the phoenixes, he had the greatest gift for leadership. **"Yes, Ramandu."** they chorused.

"**Lilliandil should carry her, as she is the smoothest flier of us all,"** Ramandu stated.

When he saw Tarva pouting as the young female phoenix picked up their guest, a twinkle of a smile appeared in his serious black eyes.

"**Tarva, you may carry her Hat."**

The youngest phoenix perked up a bit at being given a task, and waddled over to snatch up the Sorting Hat that had fallen from her head. Ramandu himself clutched the Sword of Gryffindor in his talons, and as one group, the small flock of phoenixes took to the air. In a matter of seconds, they had disappeared behind the top of the clouds, headed for their home on the top of the mountains.

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A/N: Just so you know, the names for the phoenixes are all stars (some actual heavenly bodies, some characters) from the Chornicles of Narnia. Tarva means Lord of Victory, and Alambil means Lady of Peace. Ramandu was the old star that Caspian and Co. met toward the End of the World, while Lilliandil was the name given to his daughter for the 2010 movie (she was unnamed in the books.) Coriakin was the star left to tend the Duffers as a punishment.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This story has been bugging my brain so much, that I guess it's rather easy to crank out the chapters. Of course, it helps that I actually have an idea of where this one will end… Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this new chapter.

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Rekindled - Chapter Three - An Ember Burns Where It Falls

* * *

When Harry next awoke, it was to pitch-black surroundings. Disconcertingly enough, she could see as clear as day, despite the darkness. Shaking of the impossibility of that for a moment (it probably had to do with the better vision she had acquired after the incident in the Chamber), she examined her new environment. Taking in her new situation, she realized that she was inside a gigantic cave of some kind, and lounging upon something soft and fluffy. Looking closer, she could see she was in a shallow, rough-hewn bowl that stretched across the floor of the cave, filled to the brim with red and gold feathers - the red ones glowing faintly, and the gold ones warm to the touch.

Recognizing the effects, she abruptly realized that she was in a nest of phoenix feathers. And it was a large enough nest to comfortably fit quite a few of the swan-sized birds.

Suddenly, everything that had happened before she passed out rushed back to her. The valley of flowers, the flock of phoenixes… learning that Fawkes had made her into some sort of witch-phoenix hybrid with his dying actions.

Struggling to push herself off the plush cradle of feathers, she fell back to the ground in surprise when a ball of fire appeared not three feet away from her. The flame dissipated, revealing the elegant form of a phoenix, feathers shining more brightly than the molted ones coating the ground. The bird swiveled its head until it caught sight of Harry, sitting very still in a dark corner of the cave.

"**Oh good! You're awake!"** the bird chirped in the young woman's voice Harry had heard before. **"I thought Alambil was going to start pulling out her feathers if you had stayed unconscious much longer - I think she's already mentally adopted you,"** she stated nonchalantly, hopping toward the part-witch in curiosity.

"…Who's Alambil?" Harry asked, somewhat warily. She didn't even have a sword to hold between her and the potential threat this time.

"**Oh right, you don't know our names yet. Funny, the older ones are always telling me to mind my manners, and they don't even have the courtesy to introduce themselves to our new flock-member!"** the phoenix crowed smugly.** "I'm Lilliandil, by the way,"** she added as an afterthought.** "And I'll introduce you to the others later."**

"I'm Harry," the girl introduced herself hesitantly, wondering exactly what the phoenix meant by 'flock-member'.

Lilliandil cocked her head. **"Hairy? But you only have hair on the top of your head, so why are you named as that?"** the phoenix asked innocently.

Harry couldn't help the slight smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. She got the feeling that Lilliandil was considered to be young for a phoenix. "It's actually short for Harriet. It's spelled differently too. I think it's the feminine form of the name Henry," she informed the bird.

The bird's head bobbed in understanding. **"I see. Well, now that we know each other, you should come see the others - after all, you're going to be spending a lot of time with us."**

Harry stared at the bird, a slight sinking feeling in her gut. "… you mean I can't get back?" she asked in dismay.

But the bird simply shook her head. **"Wait until you see the older phoenixes. They'll be able to tell you more than I would."**

Harry, wanting to get answers, reluctantly raised herself off the comfortably cushy nest, and followed Lilliandil out of the cave.

She stopped abruptly at the terrace-like threshold, rendered immobile by the sight that awaited her. She was on the side of a mountain - a very tall one apparently, like one of the ones she had seen earlier from the flower valley. In all directions, she could see a thick blanket of clouds, interrupted only by other mountains rising up from the white sea. However, despite their great altitude, there was nothing frozen or icy about them. Each summit was covered in lush, green foliage, with flourishing grass, and groves of fruit and nut trees every few feet. Freshwater springs dotted the peaks, running into small brooks and rivers that flowed down the mountainsides and below the cloud-covering. The sky was a clear, pure blue, and the sun made everything gleam with some secret magic.

"**They're beautiful, aren't they?"** Lilliandil noted dreamily, gazing at the sight with just as much appreciation as the newcomer. **"The Mountains of the Sun are the best place in all the universe, in my opinion. I don't know why so many phoenixes decide to travel instead."**

Harry nodded numbly.

"**Well, it'll be there to look at forever, so we should go meet the others."** Lilliandil shook them out of their daze.** "For immortal beings, they sure were impatient for you to wake up."** She turned to face the part-witch.**"Since you can't fly, I'll have to carry you to where they are, okay?"**

Harry nodded again. After all, it wasn't like she didn't enjoy flying - and she wanted answers. The phoenix grasped her shoulders, with surprising gentleness, considering how wicked her golden talons seemed.

With a rush of movement, Harry was airborne, and soaring over the clouds with not even a broomstick between her body and a great fall. Her heart beat rapidly against her throat, and the same wild joy brought with riding a broomstick rose in her chest. She could help but grin against the wind buffeting her face. Craning her head to look behind at the mountain they had taken off from, she could see that it was just as verdant as the others, just with a large, clear-cut hollow cut into the side. She twisted again to see their destination, and her shrewd, Seeker-honed sight (augmented by whatever had happened to her body) immediately zeroed in on the mountain they were headed toward. It looked almost exactly like the others, with the exception of its top. The top of the mountain almost looked like the dip on a volcano, except instead of a tunnel leading to the magma at the center of the Earth, it was a large clearing, surrounded by the ridge-sides to look almost like an arena.

When they got closer, Harry could make out tiny, shining scarlet specks, which she presumed were the other phoenixes.

The landing was remarkably smooth considering how ungainly it must have been to carry someone twice your size. Harry didn't even have to take a step to balance herself, and Lilliandil broke off smoothly to curve around and land next to her.

"**Ah, the phoenix-witch has finally arrived,"** the old man's voice said interestedly.

"**Yes, and I was going to introduce her to you, since she doesn't know your names yet,"** Lilliandil butted in, sounding as if she'd be smirking if her beak had been formed for it.

A couple of the birds had the grace to look a bit ashamed of their conduct.

"**The one who just spoke," **Lilliandil gestured with a wing toward the one with the old man's voice, **"is Coriakin."** She pointed toward the others, **"and those are Ramandu, Alambil, and Tarva is the one sleeping over there."** She waved her wing over them.

"**Greetings, child,"** said the one with the deep voice - Ramandu, then - as he gave a regal nod.

"**Hello, little one,"** the female with the calm, smooth voice - Alambil - greeted warmly, with a hint that reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley when she wanted to mother her.

"**Hiya!"** came a slightly shrill chirp from the young male - Tarva - after he had been nudged awake by Alambil.

"I'm Harriet," Harry told them with a slightly awkward nod - deciding that she would rather not deal with the 'hairy' misunderstanding because of the serious topic she wished to bring up.

"**We're the only phoenixes here at the moment,"** Lilliandil continued, **"because all the others are out exploring the other universes."**

Harry took that as her opening. "Speaking of other universes, I gather that this is a different one from Hogwarts, right?" she asked piercingly.

"**It is,"** Ramandu answered her calmly.

"And you obviously have the power to travel between dimensions," Harry said it as more of a statement than a question.

"**Yep!"** Tarva chirped cheerfully.

"Then send me back," Harry half-demanded, half-pleaded.

"**I'm afraid that cannot be allowed, child,"** Ramandu told her, a hint of remorse in his deep voice.

"Why not?" Harry asked, her temper starting to rise slightly. She was somewhat surprised though, considering the phoenixes hadn't seemed unpleasant thus far. Why would they keep her from returning home?

"**Because you're our responsibility now, girl!"** Coriakin declared adamantly, **"When Fawkes changed you, he adopted you into our flock, and it is our duty to make sure that every flock-member is taken care of and can control their abilities!"**

Harry, irked at the tone he had taken, couldn't help but snap at them. "I've never been taken care of before in my life, why should it happen now? Just send me back!"

Alambil hopped forward, concerned about her youngest 'sister' - she had obviously been hurt by someone who was supposed to take care of her, and it made her want to sooth her new flock-member's ruffled feathers. **"I know it must be difficult to be separated from all you knew, Harriet,"** she began tentatively, **"But even if you don't want to stay," **her voice audibly drooped in sadness, **"you still have to make sure you can control your new abilities."**

"I just have to not use them, right?" Harry asked, her temper still simmering. "I never wanted these abilities anyway!"

Suddenly, a rock the size of a grapefruit came flying straight at her face. Her quick reflexes ensured that her hand automatically caught it before it could break her nose, but she knew it would still scuff up her palm considerably. Much to her surprise, when her hand tightened around its catch, the rock crumbled in her grip like a dry cracker.

She stared in disbelief at the pebbles and dust left behind on her fingers.

"**You can't just 'not use' your powers girl,"** Coriakin spoke up again, ignoring the disapproving looks he was receiving from his fellow phoenixes for nearly hurting their new 'sister'. **"They are a part of you now, whether you like it or not. And if you don't learn to control them, you will end up destroying the things you are now so eager to get back to,"** he told her severely.

"But I have to go back," Harry said weakly, and was immediately embarrassed by her voice cracking in the middle of her sentence. "My friends will worry…" her voice drifted into silence for a moment as the thought of never seeing Ron or Hermione again - but she didn't want to hurt them either. "…and how will I learn magic without Hogwarts?"

"I wouldn't worry much about Hogwarts, little lion," an old, dry voice spoke up from near the phoenixes.

Harry turned her head, and saw the Sorting Hat perched on a sizeable boulder, resting next to the Sword of Gryffindor. It looked as self-satisfied as any Hat ever could.

"After all, I am as knowledgeable as any teacher you could learn from there, and I'm stuck here, the same as you," the Hat said matter-of-factly. "Besides that, I'm literally bound to you anyway."

"Meaning what, exactly?" Harry asked warily, slightly cautious of any 'bonds' considering the one Fawkes had formed had just uprooted her life.

"Meaning when we crossed between the interdimensional barrier, my magical bond to Hogwarts was severed - it was only designed to have the limit of Europe's boundaries. Since I need a source of magic to stay 'alive', and you were the only available source, I formed a new bond with you," the Hat explained to her.

"And what does that mean - I'll become part Hat?" Harry asked sarcastically.

The Hat sniffed slightly at her flippant tone. "It means that you have my loyalty, as well as access to all the information I have accessed over the many years of my existence. When I was bound to Hogwarts, I was forbidden from sharing the information I found in the minds of anyone with anyone else. However, since you are now my Source, my function is to now benefit you as much as possible."

Grudgingly, Harry could acknowledge that the Hat would be a very good thing to have. Plus, it would be nice to talk to someone that knew what humans were like, even if only on an intellectual level - she got the feeling that the phoenixes didn't really understand her (previous) species at all. Though, she did wonder how they were going to Sort the students at Hogwarts without the Hat to do it. Maybe they'd just stop segregating eleven-year-olds into prejudiced groups that would affect the courses of their lives.

"And considering I have seen the minds of all the students (at least at age eleven) and I have been known to act as a sounding board for the Headmasters and Mistresses, I can benefit you very much indeed," the Hat, unknowing of her thoughts, continued to sell his virtues. After all, she was his new source of magic.

"As a … Source, do I need to do anything special?" Harry asked reluctantly.

"Just put me on from time to time," the Hat said, somewhat relieved that his new Source wouldn't leave him to rot. "That'll do the trick."

Harry walked over to the Hat, and after only a second of hesitation, she plopped it on top of her head. As soon as it made contact, the Hat began to shrink and shift. Soon, instead of flopping uncomfortably over her eyes and ears, the Hat hit as comfortably as if it had been made specifically for her.

"And what was that?" Harry asked in surprise.

"_Obviously, that was me, changing to fit my new Source,"_ the Hat announced smugly in her head._ "I can change more than my size as well, so you could wear me anywhere without looking out of place."_

"_Well, that could be useful,"_ she thought to the Hat. (Though she vaguely wondered why the Hat chose to look like a tattered old hat if it could change its form.)

"_If anything, useful is what I am, little lion,"_ the Hat gave off a mental smirk - thankfully not catching the thoughts about his ragged appearance.

Harry contemplated the Sword as well, wondering what exactly she would do with it when she was off having phoenix lessons. She was somewhat resigned to her fate of not returning home anytime soon - after all, in her experience, good things don't last. Not for her. So instead of raging ineffectually at the injustice of it all, she'd do what she was best at - surviving. Besides, she could kinda see the point of learning to not accidentally crush her friends' bones like pretzel sticks if she felt so inclined to hug them.

"_You could just put it back inside me,"_ the Hat told her bluntly, apparently listening in on her musings. _"I was enchanted by Godric to hold whatever he wanted, so he wouldn't have to lug it around - I believe it was a precursor of the Undetectable Extension Charm that is now used."_

Not seeing anything wrong with that, she swept the Hat from her head, and picked up the Sword. She hesitated briefly. "Do I just… slide it in?" she asked uneasily.

"Yes, yes. But do be quick about it - I don't enjoy being held upside-down!" the Hat prompted her.

Harry hastily dropped the Sword into the depths of the Hat, before settling the sentient headgear back on top of her head. She wondered why her head didn't disappear into the Hat as well.

"_Because I'm made to be worn as a hat, obviously. I wouldn't be much use in that department if I kept swallowing heads,"_ the Hat chided mildly.

Right, magic.

"**As for your friends…"** a hesitant voice spoke up. Harry turned to see Alambil addressing her with hopeful eyes. **"Time has been known to move differently from universe to universe,"** the phoenix said sympathetically. **"It could be that, by the time you've learned how to control your powers, only a short amount of time will have passed in your world."**

A small spark of hope ignited.

"Right. So how long will it take to learn everything?" Harry asked, eager to get her lessons over with and go back home.

"**Oh, not that long,"** Lilliandil piped up cheerfully. **"It only took me about seventy-five years!"**

Harry felt like passing out again.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Here's another chapter for all you readers, I hope you like it! (Aren't you proud that I've been getting these updates out so quickly?) Please review - I love to read everyone's opinions on what I've written. Sometimes it helps me get the inspiration flowing.

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Rekindled - Chapter Four - From the Ashes a Fire Shall Be Woken

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Harry's eyes narrowed in concentration as she concentrated on the monumental task before her. Slowly, carefully, she reached out a hand. The tension was nigh unbearable. She gently grasped her target, and…

The bright orange-red fruit turned to pulp in her hand.

A frown of frustration crossed her face as she took in the puréed mess. She flapped her hand to get it off, and it joined in a large puddle of similar fruit paste at her feet.

"**Don't worry too much about it, Harry,"** Lilliandil told her from where she'd been supervising, giving tips every so often. **"It takes everyone awhile to learn how to regulate their strength - and getting upset will only make it harder. Besides, it's not like we'll run out of sun-fruits for you to practice on,"** she told the beginner sensibly.

And that, at least, was correct. Harry had found that the fruit and nut trees in the Mountains of the Sun were very unique. The fruits were always perfectly ripe for the picking, and whenever one was taken, a new one would grow in its place - progressing from bud, to bloom, to fruit in a matter of seconds. She supposed it was appropriate that the main part of the phoenixes' diet had the same rebirth cycle as they did.

Unfortunately, while the sun-fruit was very delicious (it tasted like an odd mix of tangerine and pomegranate, with some indefinable component that made it sweet and spicy - she could eat it for every meal of the day for years, which is exactly what it appeared she would have to do), it as also very easily bruised. And considering, in order to be deemed a master of her new strength, she had to be able to eventually catch one when it was flung at her at high speeds without causing the tiniest blemish…

Well, it would definitely take a lot longer than she wanted.

Harry concentrated for a moment, before waving her hand. She had found that gesturing didn't actually affect the new, wandless form of her 'mortal' magic, but the habitual movements helped her focus. The ground underneath the sun-fruit mash shuddered reluctantly for a moment, before it rose upward into a simple, yet large bowl around the mush. After squishing so many of them during her training, she had chosen to not allow them to go to waste - even if they did grow back so quickly. Taking advantage of the fact that they smelled so nice, she had decided to make them into incense when her phoenix teachers forced her to take a break from the rapid pace she had set for learning her powers.

When the fruit mash had been juiced completely, Harry set the remains out to dry - as both the liquid and dried bits could be used later on. She then turned back toward the gigantic pile of sun-fruits that the other phoenixes had harvested for her, and repressed a groan as she reached out for another.

At least her hands would smell nice - probably for the next seventy-five years.

* * *

Harry's brow furrowed slightly as she tried to meditate. She was trying to do as instructed and sense her magic - it was necessary for her to be able to recognize it and grasp it with a purpose, instead of accessing it on accident. She didn't want to end up teleporting to some random universe whenever she wanted to go elsewhere, like what had happened in the Chamber.

Still, it was a little difficult to do so when Tarva entered the equation. The young phoenix was deliberately disturbing her concentration by playing a very noisy game just within earshot. But then, that was also part of the lesson. It was definitely a necessity for her to learn to teleport even with distractions - after all, it could be her only means of escape if she was in danger, and danger is generally distracting.

As she tried to block him out, and look inwards as she had been told, she suddenly felt as though she had just torn away a veil that she had never known was there. She could feel her magic now, flowing within her like a mighty wellspring of energy. A sense of wonder overtook Harry for a moment as she examined her magic - the mystical power that allowed her a new chance at really living, away from the Dursley Family's putdowns and mediocrity - for the very first time. It was warm and golden, shot through with threads of scarlet, and it made her feel tranquil and confident, like she had just stepped into a room of singing phoenixes. With a small shake of her head, she gathered it with purpose, and focused determinedly on her destination. A plume of fire engulfed her, but there was no burning sensation - she only felt warmth.

When her eyes opened, and the fire had cleared away, she found to her disappointment that she had landed at least ten yards away from her target.

"**Good, you've found your magic - it'll need to be faster next time! Plus, you had better focus a little more, girl!"** Coriakin barked from his perch on the sidelines. **"If it weren't for that cuff, you would have just wound up teleporting halfway across the world!"**

He was referring to a small bangle that was fastened around her wrist. It was an enchanted device, made for young phoenixes who were just learning their powers, preventing them from teleporting any farther than a certain distance. Usually, it would be placed around the student's neck, but considering she had a human form, it had been decided that its size would make it fit better as a bracelet instead of a collar.

"**And besides that, you shouldn't close your eyes during a teleport - it might help you get more on target if you can actually see where you're going!"**

Harry shook off the even greater disappointment she felt at knowing she wasn't nearly as close as only ten yards off her target, and listened to the advice from her strict teacher. She reached inwards toward her magic - she knew the way now, so it was much quicker - and tried again, with eyes open this time.

She still didn't get anywhere close, but then, that's why she was practicing.

* * *

Harry sat quietly in the small clearing that the phoenixes had pointed out to her for her 'mortal' magic lessons. It was in the middle of a grove of sun-fruit trees that provided shade that the clouds could not, as well as a snack if she wanted. There were thick bushes in between the gaps of their trunks, and there was a trickling brook that pooled into a small pond near the tree line. She was currently listening intently to the words of the Sorting Hat settled comfortably on her head.

"_Now, phoenixes were widely thought of as creatures of Light Magic in our original world - and upon coming here, we now know that as fact," _the Hat told his pupil. _"Since your metamorphosis into a part phoenix, we have found through multiple tests that you have acquired a high affinity for Light-oriented spell work - as evidenced by your quick mastery of the Patronus Charm, which is seen as tremendously difficult. On the other hand, you are not able to cast any Dark-oriented spells, even simple jinxes or hexes."_

Harry frowned slightly. How would she be able to fight without any offensive spells? And she knew she should be able to fight - after all, just look at her previous experiences at Hogwarts. If she had faced that much danger in a school, how much worse would the outside world be? Especially since Voldemort seemed to be fixated on her.

"_You aren't thinking outside the box enough, little lion,"_ the Hat said, replying to her train of thought. _"Professor McGonagall is a highly proficient duelist, and she mainly uses Transfiguration, which is a strictly neutral art. Professor Flitwick has won many tournaments around the world, solely with the use of Charms, which are also mostly neutral,__"_he told his Source, using examples that she knew personally to make his point._ "With a little ingenuity and skill, you can beat anyone without using a hint of Dark Magic - so that's just what you'll have to learn."_

Harry pondered that for a moment, before shrugging mentally, deciding to contemplate it more deeply another time, now that the idea was in her head. "Alright, I suppose. What will I be doing for today's lesson?"

Pleased that his student had considered his words seriously, the Hat continued speaking,_ "Today, you will be learning about a defensive charm that is very useful against any armed opponent - especially if they are highly dependant on their weapon of choice. It is called the Disarming Charm, and the incantation is 'Expelliarmus'…"_

* * *

Out of all her lessons, Harry found the one she took with Ramandu and Alambil to be the easiest. After all, for someone used to stifling her tears - the Dursleys said it made her unsightly, and would send her to her cupboard if her eyes so much as watered - learning to not produce the now precious healing liquid unless she intended to was rather simple.

So, instead of simply using the allotted time they had on her busy schedule to help her learn something she had already conditioned herself to do, the two phoenixes told her fascinating stories of their experiences in other universes, as well as history about their species. It was something of a novelty for Harry to be told stories by anyone - it had been something she had wished for many times during her bleak childhood. She thought that they ones the phoenixes told were even better though - theirs were real.

For example, they once told her a story of the valley of red-orange flowers she had first landed in upon her accidental teleportation. They were called fire-flowers, and unlike every other plant in the Mountains of the Sun, they did not grow and rebirth themselves every time they 'died'. Instead, the phoenixes watered them with their tears, giving them potent healing properties - even more potent than the tears themselves, since so many droplets went into the creation of just one flower. Ramandu told her that some very important people sometimes came to make a sort of elixir out of crushed fire-flowers - but only if allowed entrance by the phoenixes.

It was the kind of history that was actually interesting to her - it had the sense of simple wonder that came with magic and fairytales. Very much unlike the goblin rebellions Professor Binns spoke of, which were basically just wars, the same as those that happened everywhere. (Just between small, wrinkled creatures and wizards.)

Besides the story-telling, the two phoenixes also acted as counselors of sorts, and tried to help her sort out her adolescent tangle of thoughts and impressions with help from the wisdom they had amassed over their long lives. And if they managed to sneak in a lesson or two on controlling her emotions anyway, she wasn't complaining much. She found that learning to manage her sometimes explosive temper was actually helping in all her other lessons.

Fire in the heart sends smoke into the head, after all - one of the proverbs they had shared with her.

* * *

Harry leaned slightly into the caress of the cool evening breeze, gazing intently out across the sea of clouds. If she enjoyed anything about the Mountains of the Sun, it would be the reason for which they were named. When the sun started to dip down over the horizon, the blanket of white fluff would start to reflect the colors of the sunset. The clouds would shift from a lustrous gold, to fiery orange, to blazing red, and finally fade to a dusky purple at the very end.

It painted the landscape with an element of the fantastic - much better than any mortal artist ever could - and Harry made sure to watch it every day from her mountainside seat, before she went to sleep. More often than not, Lilliandil - who was quickly becoming a good friend - would come and watch with her, enjoying the new appreciation of her home that came with the part-witch's pure reaction of childlike admiration; sometimes she felt as though she might be losing the sense of wonder that her home had once inspired, and she was glad to have it rekindled.

They watched in a companionable silence as the sun drifted out of sight, and was replaced by a glowing moon with an entourage of distinct, dazzling stars. Lilliandil would point out various constellations - completely different than the ones in Harry's world - and tell the tales that had put them in the skies.

"**We should go inside now, before it gets cold," **Lilliandil reluctantly broke the silence. It was a poor excuse too, as phoenixes weren't really affected by extremes in temperature - she just didn't want to admit to following the bedtime curfew the older phoenixes had instated.

Harry acknowledged the phoenix's words, but stayed stationary for awhile longer, simply basking in the peace and quiet of the nighttime air. But still, she had to admit that she was mentally and physically exhausted from all the lessons she had plowed through that day - it would make it easy for her to fall asleep. With a slight sigh of exertion at the pull on her sore muscles, she pushed herself off the ground and onto her feet, following the phoenix back into the cave.

Harry had found that the cave she had woken up in was indeed the phoenixes' nest. It was big enough for all those present in the Mountains to comfortably share - though Lilliandil had mentioned that there were other caves for when more of the phoenixes (the ones currently out exploring other universes) were living at their home world. She picked her way toward the back of the cave, the dim glow of the crimson feathers, as well as her enhanced vision allowing her to easily avoid any dips in the ground. The spicy, yet sweet scent of sun-fruit incense drifted through the air - as all the phoenixes had taken a liking to the results of Harry's little project.

As she snuggled down into the soft corner she had claimed, Harry had to admit that while she was averse to not being able to return to her original universe until she mastered her new powers, the Mountains of the Sun weren't all that bad. She took one last glance around the communal bed to make sure that the Hat wouldn't fall during the night from the stone shelf she had Transfigured for it, and closed her eyes.

"**Harriet!"** a young voice chirped excitedly, interrupting her in the midst of drifting off to sleep. Tarva bowled roughly into her in an approximation of a bird-style tackle-hug - it would have broken her ribs if she had been a normal human. The youngest phoenix had taken a shine to the newest member of their 'flock', and enjoyed spending time with her when the adults weren't 'making her learn that old _boring _stuff'. (Though he was waiting impatiently for the day Harry would be able to play Fire Tag with him - a phoenix-styled version of the children's game that included teleporting.) **"I beat my record today! I flew ten laps around Assembly Mountain in only five minutes - Alambil kept the time for me!"**

Harry smiled slightly at his excitability, and shifted him into a more comfortable position on her stomach. "Was it around the base of the mountain, or the top?" she asked him indulgently. The young phoenix was so endearing in his enthusiasm for everything that she couldn't help but see him as a sort of surrogate sibling.

The small crest of feathers on top of his head drooped slightly, in what Harry had learned was a phoenix version of a pout. **"It was only the top,"** Tarva sulked a tiny bit, before abruptly regaining his usual cheeriness.** "But just you wait and see - when my wingspan is bigger, I'll make the same time around the base!"**

As she listened to the (relatively) young phoenix natter on until his beak slowed with sleepiness, Harry mentally corrected herself.

She supposed the Mountains of the Sun were a little better than 'not that bad'.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this chapter - it was actually pretty fun to write. (See if you can guess what other book series that's being referenced.)

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Rekindled - Chapter Five - Chestnuts Roasting

* * *

A elated peal of childish laughter echoed through the valley, bouncing off the surrounding mountains. Sprinting through the fire-flowers was a petite young woman, looking to be around fifteen years old - in human years, that is. She had pitch-black hair that tickled her cheekbones and shoulder-tops, and laughing, bright green eyes set in a lightly sun-bronzed face. Her clothes were modest, and highly practical - the same exact color of the leaves on the sun-fruit trees, having been Transfigured from them after wearing through and outgrowing her old robes. This was Harriet Potter, though many of the people in her old world wouldn't have recognized her for the lack of distinctively thick glasses, lightning bolt scar, and a slightly stressed pinch between her eyebrows.

Ten years of being the 'baby sister' to a flock of phoenixes had done her well - especially since phoenixes were always of the opinion that you should try to 'find joy in every facet of your life'. They were almost forced to choose that route, because their only other option was to see the bad in everything, which is just depressing for anything with their lifespan.

Harry actually should have appeared to be around twenty-two, but had accidentally teleported off the side of a mountain three years before, and had broken her neck when she met the ground; when she had been reborn, instead of a baby-body, she had found herself once again in the form of a twelve-year-old. After some contemplation from her flock, they had decided that it rather made sense - after all, hadn't her life as a part-phoenix started at the age of twelve? It was only logical, then, that her twelve-year-old body would be seen as the 'beginning' of her life cycle.

And while she knew the skill of rapidly maturing to your desired age, she had decided against using it for now. After all, it wasn't like _she _turned into a featherless baby bird upon rebirthing (or any kind of baby, actually) - plus she didn't go through the rebirth process on a regular basis like normal phoenixes, as she didn't molt. So instead, she allowed herself to age naturally for the time being, saving the rapid aging for a time when she might actually need to use the skill.

Swooping behind the running girl were the vibrantly-winged forms of Lilliandil and Tarva. The reason for their frivolous actions was actually quite practical - helping Tarva work with his turns while flying. Lilliandil, being the best flyer of all the phoenixes was sent to supervise, and if need be, catch the somewhat clumsy young male. Harry, on the other hand, was playing 'prey', because while phoenixes mostly ate fruits and nuts, they were, in fact, omnivores. If Tarva were ever to go to a universe without much vegetation, he would need to know how to hunt.

Hence the game of 'tag' they were playing.

Lanky legs propelling her forward like a gazelle, with a mischievous grin most definitely inherited from her prankster of a father, Harry made a hard turn, right in front of one of the waterfall-ponds. Lilliandil immediately pulled up and back, but Tarva's wings flapped awkwardly in slight panic, and he plunged directly into the vertical sheet of water.

Both females laughed - hard. It became even worse when Tarva flopped out of the water, frantically trying to shake off the droplets of water, but only succeeding in looking like a wet chicken that had been dyed red trying to do its eponymous dance. Lilliandil had to land before the force of her laughs sent her plummeting out of the sky, and settled less gracefully than normal next to the humanoid form of her best friend, who was clutching her stomach as she tried to breathe properly.

"**Aw, come on guys!"** Tarva pouted verbally - his feather crest that would usually droop at that point already weighed down by water. He was, however, a good enough sport to not actually be offended. A glint of impishness shone in his black eyes for a moment as he took in their entirely distracted forms. As stealthily as a dripping wet, flaming scarlet bird could, he hopped over toward them until he was only a couple feet away.

Then, he shook himself like a dog.

The girls shrieked in surprise as the cold drops splashed on their unsuspecting forms, and it was Tarva's turn to laugh. The girls joined him again after a moment - after all, it was only a little water.

Their joviality was halted by a completely unsuspected noise echoing through the valley. It took a moment for Harry to place it as the jingling of bells - like the kind you would hear during the holidays. The chimes were bright and clear, even after rebounding off the sides of the mountains.

Lilliandil seemed to immediately recognize the noise, for she immediately rose from the ground, looking toward the sky expectantly. **"Tarva, will you please go and get the others? Tell them a very important guest has arrived,"** she told the younger phoenix seriously.

Somewhat taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere, but recognizing the earnestness in her tone, Tarva did as asked without the good-natured complaint he usually would have given.

"Who is it, Lily?" Harry asked her friend curiously, as there had never been 'guests' in the Mountains of the Sun during her time there. (At first it had seemed a bit odd to use her mother's name for a friend's nickname, but as she'd actually never really known her mother, the name 'Lily' was now associated first and foremost with her friend in her mind.)

"**Father Christmas,"** the female phoenix told her solemnly, but with a hint of joy behind her tone.

Harry's eyes widened. Even if she had spent the last decade in the company of a flock of mythical birds (after partially becoming one herself) and a sentient Hat, Father Christmas was definitely enough to warrant shocked surprise.

"You mean… like Santa Claus?" she asked, her tone a mix of shock and intensely fascinated delight as she scrambled to her feet.

"**Of course,"** Lilliandil seemed to grin slightly at her friend's excitement. **"Though the name 'Father Christmas' is seen as a bit more respectful."**

"So he's a inter-dimensional traveler as well?" Harry asked curiously, looking toward the same place in the sky Lily was, and wondering how else the… holiday figure could exist in this realm, yet be such a well known icon in her original world.

"**Christmas exists in most dimensions,"** the phoenix told her simply.

Harry wanted to ask more, but the words caught in her throat as she spotted something breaking through the thick blanket of clouds.

It was two reindeer. And they were flying - running as simply as if they were on the ground. Connected to the two reindeer were harnesses, which led to a sleigh. And sitting inside the sleigh, Harry could see the unmistakable figure of Father Christmas, dressed in long, red, hooded robe, with a long white beard that flowed down his torso and a certain stoutness about his figure.

"Hoh!" the man shouted in a deep, solemn voice as he pulled on his reigns. The reindeer slowed to a stop as they touched down to the ground, and the sleigh stopped perfectly in front of the two females who had been watching.

"**Greetings, Father Christmas,"** Lilliandil welcomed the man with a respectful nod of her head. Then she pointed a wing toward her humanoid friend. **"You haven't been here in a while - this is Harriet Potter. She's the newest member of our flock."**

"Hello," Harry greeted him as well, making a somewhat nervous bob of her own head. The man had a sort of authority around him that made her feel inestimably small in comparison with his importance. But still, considering this was Father Christmas himself, that was understandable - after all, he had been around since the holiday had began, so he must have picked up some presence along the way.

"Good day to you, firebirds!" he told them, his voice somehow still solemn, yet with the feeling of cheer everyone got around the holidays. His eyes twinkled like stars as he descended from his sleigh. "It has been very long since I've visited these mountains - for they are a timeless place, and Christmas comes but once a year! They are as beautiful as ever."

"**If only you did visit more often," **Lilliandil told him sincerely, her tone warm. Harry could tell that her friend liked the old man.

"And if only it were not such grave business that carried me thusly," he suddenly seemed older than his previous joviality had conveyed, his tone much more solemn, with less of the cheer behind it. His eyes lost their twinkle. "As it is, though, I am in need of a fire-flower. Or rather, I know of a young girl who will be in need of one."

His listeners' eyes widened in surprise. What terrible event could occur that would have a little girl in need of a healing elixir even more potent than the already miraculous tears of a phoenix? Most certainly not an event a little girl should be in in the first place.

Harry felt a surge of empathy for this girl, though she didn't know her. After all, she had gone through some near death experiences at the ages of eleven and twelve - she could understand how awful the circumstance might be. And she wanted to help this unknown girl - but better than that, she _could _help the girl this time.

Harry quickly turned and strode to a specific patch of the extraordinary flowers. These had been the ones she herself had grown - with her own healing tears. Whenever she had been feeling especially homesick or melancholy, she had decided to do something useful with her sadness, and had grown her own batch of fire-flowers. Not hesitating for even a moment, she carefully kneeled beside an especially vibrant one, and delicately plucked it from the ground, making sure not to damage it.

She carried it back toward the parked sleigh, and without any of her previous anxiousness over being in the presence of Father Christmas, extended her hand with the flower toward the man in red. After all, a little bit of nervousness was no excuse for not helping a little girl in a very rough situation.

Father Christmas gazed at her seriously for a moment, and she was peripherally aware of her phoenix friend gawking at her in surprise. Then, the stout old man reached out, and gently took the offered flower from her hand.

"You have a generous heart, young one," Father Christmas told her solemnly, before switching his stare toward the flower. "And... I think your very nature as a part-witch will make the cordial this flower makes even more potent against the injuries it will heal. I thank you, both for myself, and the girl this will be given to."

Harry flushed slightly at his words. After all, it's not every day that you are thanked by Father Christmas himself.

The man then smiled at her, and his eyes began to twinkle again. He carefully placed the fire-flower into a small satchel, and tucked it away safely inside a pocket in his robe.

"While generosity is its own reward," he leaned down slightly to tell her, "I believe I have something in my bag that is so well matched with you, I'm surprised I did not recognize you on sight. I ought not to keep you separated any longer."

Harry's eyes grew to epic proportions as Father Christmas turned toward his sleigh, reaching toward the large bag that was situated behind his seat. Did he just say what she thought he did? Was Father Christmas actually going to give her a present? A short glance at Lilliandil's gobsmacked face told her that she had heard the same thing.

When the robed man turned toward the girls again, they could see a small object in his hand. It was a wine-red, velvet drawstring bag. He opened the bag, and reached inside, pulling out a elegant, yet simple hand mirror.

Harry found her eyes almost magnetized to the small item. It was made of old silver, and looked solid rather than delicate. The mirror itself was round in shape, about six inches in diameter, with a curved, rounded handle extending about the same length. The back surface was embossed with intricate designs - Harry could make out a triangle shape, with a stylized sun inside it, and a small flower with six petals inside the sun's center. Tiny, but detailed wings curled around the borders of the triangle.

When she managed to wrench her eyes back up to Father Christmas' face, she could see a knowing smile tugging at his lips behind his beard.

He offered the mirror to her, along with its pouch.

"This mirror is yours," he told her directly, "And it is no normal item of vanity. Rather, it is an object of magic, allowing its owner to see across great distances - even the boundaries between worlds, and the vastness of time."

"**A Scrying Mirror?"** Lilliandil whispered in amazement.

Harry herself was amazed. With this small object, she could see the past, present and future - even that of other worlds. She could even see her own world again, though she could not physically go there. She could see how her friends were doing - if Ginny and Ron (and Lockheart) had gotten out of the Chamber safely, if Hermione had been successfully de-Petrified. She could see how long it had been since she had left.

But she hesitated in taking it.

"I'm sorry, Father Christmas," she told the man, ducking her head in embarrassment. "But my experience with my phoenix abilities is lacking. I still can't completely control my strength. If you give me that, I'm afraid I'll only break it."

And that was especially true if she was experiencing strong emotion. Astonished amazement, mixed with a powerful feeling of excitement followed by an equally powerful feeling of mortified disappointment - which is what she was feeling at the moment - most definitely qualified as strong emotion.

A rich chuckle boomed from the depths of the man's belly. "Child, did I not say it was yours?" he asked her kindly, "It will not break when you hold it - nor will it rust as the years go by. It is yours, as long as your life may last," he told her firmly, pressing the mirror and its bag into her hands.

Her grip tightened instinctively so as to not drop what she was given. She inwardly cringed, expecting to hear the sour wrenching of metal as the mirror's handle warped beneath her grip. Instead, when she looked down in astonishment, the mirror was as intact as ever, glistening up at her with a pristine polish.

She looked back up at Father Christmas' face, and managed to whisper a thank you, despite the tightness in her throat. He smiled at her, and it was like a warm fireplace in the middle of winter. Before anything else could happen, both of their attentions were diverted by the arrival of the other phoenixes.

The phoenixes greeted him respectfully, yet happily - except for Tarva, who hadn't been around when Father Christmas had visited last. They talked late into the night, some of the birds coming over to exclaim over her new mirror. Eventually, however, Father Christmas had to leave - after all, there were places that actually _had_ Christmas once a year that he had to attend to.

Harry watched him fly up into the clouds once more, waving goodbye, and gently fingered the small, wine-red bag in her pocket.

She couldn't wait to try out her new gift.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Someone asked in a review if Harry would be able to use the Stunning Spell, or if it would be too Dark. As it is actually a Charm, and pretty much neutral in its intent (subduing without harming or killing) she will still be able to use it. I'm glad you guys like this story enough to ask questions about it!

* * *

Rekindled - Chapter Six - A Fire Burning Unchecked

* * *

Only a few days after the visit of Father Christmas, once she was finished with her lessons, Harry sat cross-legged in the small clearing used for her 'mortal' magic lessons. In her lap was the Mirror, her fingers tracing gently around the frame as she reveled in being able to casually handle it without the danger of it breaking beneath her touch. She breathed deeply, concentrating her thoughts as she readied to use it - as per the Hat's comprehensive instructions on scrying.

Harry was the only person in the clearing - even the Hat had been sent back to the Nesting Cave so that she could have privacy as she peeked into the events of her previous world; it had the double benefit of reducing the amount of distractions, which would help her to concentrate properly during her first time using the Mirror. She was thankful for the solitude, as there was no telling what kinds of things she would see once she peeked into her home universe. Any manner of horrible things could have happened while she was absent - it could be that everyone she knew was dead, maybe even from old age.

She took another deep, calming breath, firming up her grip on the Mirror, before sending a tendril of magic into it as she focused intently on a certain place. The Mirror responded instantly, with the efficient eagerness of an artifact truly suited to its owner - Father Christmas clearly had not been exaggerating when he said that they were well matched. Colors whirled and shifted across the surface of the Mirror, before coming to an abrupt halt as the image of her desired location appeared. She took a minute to admire the responsiveness of her newest magical artifact, mentally thanking Father Christmas once again for the gift.

Peering into the depths of the Scrying Mirror, Harry saw the Great Hall of Hogwarts as though she was looking from a small window in the ceiling. Her eyes drank in the sight eagerly and appreciatively as she savored the view - after all, it had been _years_ since she had last seen the school of magic. A sort of fond nostalgia filled her at the sight. To her slight surprise, however, she didn't feel the previous emotional association of the castle with 'home'. She shook her head with a small smile - it was only to be expected, she supposed. After all, she had spent less than two years at Hogwarts, while a decade had gone by during her time in the Mountains. Not to mention the fact that the phoenixes treated her like family, while the occupants of the Wizarding World seemed torn between putting her on a pedestal or ostracizing her.

The Mountains of the Sun were obviously her real home. And while she remembered Ron and Hermione as being good friends, the phoenixes had become her real family.

Turning her thoughts back to her original intentions for using the Mirror, Harry shifted the sights of the Mirror toward the Gryffindor table, and started to scan the table for redheads - or a wildly bushy mane of brown.

She didn't see Ron, Hermione or Ginny first, surprisingly. Instead, it was their older brother… his name was Percy, wasn't it? - and he was wearing a meticulously shined Head Boy badge pinned proudly to his chest. So not much time had passed in that world at all, she mused in slight surprise. After all, Percy had been a sixth year, last she checked, and that had been toward the end of the Hogwarts school year. Now, he was obviously a seventh-year, so less than a year had passed at Hogwarts during the decade she had spent in the Mountains of the Sun. That gave her high hopes for returning to her original dimension in less than a decade from their points of view.

Her eyes drifted up the table, until she caught sight of another redhead - this one with the long hair that was common for young witches. A small breath of relief escaped her lips as she saw Ginny - now a second-year - happily chatting with a fellow Gryffindor girl. She had gotten out of the Chamber safely, then. And with no apparent side effects from her ordeal, from what Harry could tell.

Satisfied with Ginny's appearance, she looked for the others she wished to check on. She saw Hermione next - the bushy-haired bibliophile thankfully Un-Petrified. She was nibbling on some toast as she mulled over an open book that was propped against a jug on the table. Harry could see signs of stress and a lack of sleep on the face of her old friend. She was pale, with shadows under her rapidly reading eyes. Other than that, though, she seemed fine, and not in any kind of life-threatening danger that was surprisingly common from what Harry remembered of Hogwarts.

Surprisingly, her next target, Ron, was nowhere near the bookworm. In fact, Harry found him on the almost exact opposite side of the Gryffindor table, seated as far away from the girl as possible. However, despite the distance between him and Hermione, he seemed much the same - shoveling food in his mouth in great abundance as he simultaneously tried to talk through the masticated gloop to his dorm mates.

Harry was confused. Why weren't Ron and Hermione sitting next to each other? In fact, it seemed that they were throwing subtle glares in each others' direction when they thought the other wasn't looking. What could have caused such a huge rift between her two closest friends?

Responding to her desires, the Mirror's image swirled again. This time, when it stopped, it was an image of the past - _Hermione and Ron stood mulishly, facing each other down in a Hogwarts hallway, with thunderous scowls on their faces. The bookworm was protectively clutching a fidgeting, ginger-colored cat to her chest, while Ron held his pet rat (whose name she couldn't remember) in a similar manner. The youngest Weasley boy gestured angrily from the cat to his rat as his mouth worked furiously, his face tinting steadily crimson as he apparently yelled. Hermione's face and posture turned defensive and offended as she retorted with a frown. The argument showed no signs of stopping as their anger steadily climbed - only becoming worse when the cat finally managed to squirm out of its owner's arms, and leapt at the rat._

_Ron instinctively wrenched his hands, and thus his pet, away from the path of the ginger-cat. His face was nearly maroon when he yelled one final thing at his once-friend, before stomping away in fury. Hermione stared at his retreating back, her face flushed with emotion - mostly anger - and tears of frustration shimmering in her eyes. After a moment, she shook herself, picked up her disgruntled-looking cat, and strode away in the opposite direction._

The scene shifted again - this time, to a very similar scene.

_Ron aggressively pointed his wand at Hermione's cat - his own pet was nowhere to be seen. Instead of his rat, he was holding a sheet from his bed, splattered with small, telltale blood stains. While Hermione looked slightly apologetic in addition to the same frustrated, defensive anger, Ron looked as though he was about to explode like an over-inflated balloon. Instead of yelling, however, Ron was surprisingly still, his mouth moving in the smaller motions of quiet words. Hermione retorted with her usual self-righteous defensiveness. After a moment of no speech on either of their parts, Ron's scowl deepened, he said one last thing, and walked away. This time, there was a finality to the action that hadn't been present before. Hermione looked devastated for a moment, her mouth trembling slightly in sadness, before her lips stiffened into a stubborn line, and her grip tightened in need of comfort around her cat as she quietly walked away._

A disappointed frown crossed Harry's face as the mirror cleared of the scene. They had estranged themselves over a simple matter of Hermione's new pet following its feline instincts and chasing after Ron's rat? It wasn't as if the pets automatically had the same feelings as their owners - Hermione didn't _want_ her cat to kill Ron's pet. So why did they let such a conflict, that wasn't even really between the two of them, split them up? Now things would definitely never be the same - even if Harry did get back in a relatively timely manner. Then again, considering how long it would be on Harry's end before she could travel back to Hogwarts, it was highly unlikely that things would have been the same anyway. Still, it somewhat ruined her ideal daydream of returning to her original dimension.

A little bit put-off by the fact that her two previously closest friends apparently didn't like each other anymore - especially over such a trivial thing - Harry decided to turn her attention back to the previous scene in the Great Hall. The image swirled, and thankfully, a distraction appeared almost immediately after she wished for it. The morning mail arrived, post owls swooping low over the tables as they dropped off letters and parcels - nearly landing them in the breakfast.

The sea of black-clad students noticeably stilled as those with a subscription to the Daily Prophet read the newest edition of their newspapers. There was a rush of silent motion as they eagerly shared the news with their seat neighbors. The Mirror zoomed in on one of the papers in response to Harry's curiosity.

The date read January 31st, 1994 (it was nice to know the exact date - eight months since her tussle with the basilisk), but what excited everyone was the headline - **'Sirius Black - Not So Black, After All!'** The moving picture was that of a very lean, somber-looking man who kept rolling his eyes - presumably at the cameramen - as he walked out of sight. Harry squinted slightly, trying to see the smaller print of the article beneath the title. It must be something important if everyone was so worked up about it. The Mirror reacted to her wish, and zoomed in on the tiny words, allowing Harry to read them easily.

"**As you all know, Sirius Black was arrested twelve years ago - sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban. His crime was blowing up a street, murdering twelve muggles, as well as the wizard Peter Pettigrew in the process. He was also the Secret Keeper of the Potter family, and as a Death Eater, had betrayed their location to Voldemort. This previous summer, Black did the impossible, becoming the first (and hopefully last) prisoner to escape Azkaban prison. Many believed that he had escaped in order to kill the Girl-Who-Lived in vengeance for his Master, not knowing that she had perished only months before. (See 'The Girl-Who-Lived and her Last Act of Heroism' on p. 9)**

**All you have been told about this story is wrong.**

**With the help of the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement, Madame Amelia Bones, Black was able to prove his innocence with irrefutable evidence - Peter Pettigrew, alive.**

**With the application of a dose of Veritaserum, it was found the Pettigrew was the Death Eater, as well as the traitorous Secret Keeper. Black admitted that he had discussed with James Potter his worries that choosing himself would be too obvious - Pettigrew was decided upon, in an attempt for misdirection. Unfortunately, the Potters were mistaken in whom they decided to place their trust.**

**And not only was Black innocent of that betrayal, but also of the charges of murder. Instead of the supposed events of Black blowing up the street, questioning under Truth Serum proved that Pettigrew was once again responsible. In order to frame his one-time friend, when Pettigrew was cornered, he yelled out about how Black had betrayed James and Lily Potter, acting as though he was the one pursuing a traitor. He then proceeded to cut off his own finger to leave behind, explode the street, transform into his illegal Animagus form of a rat, and escape into the sewers - leaving behind Black to take the blame.**

**After twelve years spent under the effects of the Dementors in Azkaban (coincidentally, he was sent there without a trial - See 'Investigation of Bartemius Crouch Sr.' on p. 12) Black is surprisingly lucid. He has admitted that he combated the emotional affliction by shifting into his own illegal Animagus form - though he is now registered. Apparently, having the physical form of an animal lessens the negative effects of exposure to Dementors. (See 'Dementors - An Inside Perspective Brings New Facts to Light' on p. 6)**

**Upon escaping, his main goal was to find Pettigrew, and bring him to justice. He found the Death Eater posing as a family pet in his Animagus form, and swiftly captured him with all the skill of a former Auror. **

**Unfortunately, his other goal - to find and take care of his goddaughter, Harriet, will never happen, Merlin rest her soul. **

**Nevertheless, Black has been cleared of all charges, and granted a large compensation for his unlawful imprisonment in Azkaban (minus the fine for being an illegal Animagus) He has expressed his intention to leave behind Wizarding Britain and all its bad memories to travel the world. He believes that it is necessary in order for him to start the healing process - something he knows his dearly departed friends would want for him.**

**May we all wish him luck, and guard ourselves against such gross miscarriages of justice in the future."**

Harry stared blankly at the enlarged black and white print for a moment, the image fading away as her concentration drifted. She hadn't even know that Sirius Black or Peter Pettigrew had existed before reading the article - it was hard for her to feel anything but a sort of dull surprise at the news about them. What shocked her most was the idea that the Wizarding World thought she was dead; but when she thought about it, it sort of made sense - it wasn't exactly farfetched for them to believe that a twelve-year-old (even a super-famous, 'heroic' one) would die in the process of slaying a basilisk.

After a long period of mulling over what she had seen, she had decided not to bother getting too worked up over the events in her home universe - after all, she couldn't exactly do anything about it at the moment, what with her training not yet being close to finished.

Besides that, for her, it had been ten years since she had been there, and her emotions weren't as intense toward the people and events there anyway.

Suddenly curious about her newly discovered godfather, Harry directed the Mirror to show her Sirius Black and the events that the newspaper reported about him.

_A grubby-furred, skeletally thin black dog shimmied through the gaps between the bars of his dank, dreary cell. He carefully snuck around corners until he made it outside, where he jumped off the edge of the dismal island, and began doggy-paddling toward shore._

_-spin-  
_

_The same dog appeared again, this time near what Harry recognized as the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Interestingly enough, the same ginger cat that Hermione had been holding, was padding nonchalantly toward the Animagus convict with a small roll of parchment clamped in its mouth. The cat sat primly in front of Sirius, dropping its burden and looking as smug as a cat ever can. The dog pressed a paw to the edge of the parchment, and carefully unrolled it. A distinctly human-looking expression of dark glee filled the dog's eyes when he saw the list of passwords to the Gryffindor Common Room - and more importantly, the boys' dormitory where a certain rat was hiding._

___-spin-_

_Sirius sat on a chair in chains, though he looked extremely calm, and even grimly pleased, despite his restraints. (It was the first time Harry had seen his appearance - he still looked extremely skinny, like his dog form, but was now cleaner. He was very pale, as well, and looked like he needed to hear some phoenix song) He was in a small chamber with four other people. There was a stern-looking witch with a monocle and a nametag reading 'Madame Bones - Head of DMLE' . She was flanked by a young-looking woman with bright pink hair, and a large black man, both dressed in red robes with their wands at the ready. The last person was a short, somewhat chubby, balding man with a distinctly rodent-like cast to his features - he was also restrained in a chained chair, though instead of the calm Sirius exuded, his eyes were rolling around the room in a panic. Madam Bones barked out an order, and the tall black man withdrew a small vial of what looked like water (but most certainly wasn't) from his robes. He walked forward toward the two prisoners - one looking satisfied, the other terrified.  
_

___-spin-_

_Sirius, now looking slightly healthier, was lying in what looked like a hospital bed. He looked up from the newspaper he was reading to look at the doorway - a weary-looking man in threadbare robes stepped into the room. Sirius stood quickly from the bed, and they looked at one another with a mixture of emotions, before abruptly hugging each other, holding on tightly as they manfully patted each other roughly on the back. If a few tears escaped, they were ignored._

___-spin-_

_The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, Sirius stepping out from behind it as he exited the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry caught a glimpse of Ron and Hermione's sad faces as they stood next to each other with no hostility for the moment. The reason why became apparent when she noticed that Sirius was carefully levitating a familiar trunk behind him, labeled with her initials. Hedwig's cage was on top of it, the owl inside looking unnaturally forlorn, though healthy. The one thing the two former friends had been united in was finished - taking care of the possessions of their deceased friend._

___-spin-_

_Sirius stood in a familiar room, the same man from before accompanying him. It was the Trophy Room at Hogwarts. They were staring at a particular plaque - large, golden shield that read: 'Awarded to Harriet Potter, for Special Services to the School - 1993'. It was in the same exact place as Tom Riddle's trophy had previously been. Both men had gloomy, sad looks on their faces as slowly left the room._

___-spin-_

_Sirius knelt in front of a large, white marble tombstone, unmindful of the snow soaking through his robes. He traced gently over the carefully engraved words - James and Lily Potter - _"_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death_"._ Sirius stared solemnly at the grave of two of his dearest friends, After a moment, he took our his wand, and with a small flick, the tombstone changed, the name Harriet joining that of her parents._

___-spin-_

_Sirius stood in what Harry identified as the Leaky Cauldron, holding a thin, gold and red ribbon. He was facing the same man he had hugged in the hospital room, and was obviously saying a goodbye. After a moment, the ribbon glowed a soft blue, and Sirius disappeared from the place._

Harry stared as the last image faded from the Mirror. From the ex-convict's actions, she could tell that he had a special place in his heart reserved for her dearly departed parents - and she had apparently inherited that place. She was a bit sad that everyone thought her dead. It must be very hard for the man to discover that she was gone - especially since it had supposedly happened just before his escape. He might even blame himself for not taking care of her. And he had already looked so lonely too.

When she returned to her original universe, she was absolutely going to spend some time with her godfather. She wanted to get to know him better - it would be nice to see what it was like to have a human family member who was actually decent.

Harry started slightly as she realized that it was almost time fore her next lesson. Quickly packing away the Mirror, she bounded out of the clearing, more eager than ever to go back to her home universe - after all, while her juvenile friendships didn't seem like they'd last, she now had a godfather to look forward to meeting.


End file.
